Hamburgers, Maple Syrup, and Something More
by Paroapockinroo
Summary: America reveals his true feelings to Canada.  CanadaXAmerica.  Rated M for fun stuff that happens


One lonely day in April, Canada decided to pay a visit to his brother, America's house.

The air was humid, but the wind chilly, as Matthew walked across the grassy grounds, his hands in his pockets. Shyly he hesitated before drawing a hand and rapping it across the echoing door. A few moments past before there was a click of a deadbolt and a familiar face stood inside the doorway of the house. The man's blonde hair swayed in the slight wind blowing through the entrance and his lips smacked with loud chewing.

"Dude!" He smiled widely, spitting food "Come inside!"

Saying nothing, Matthew quietly entered and the door slammed shut behind him. He wiped away a bit of America's food that had managed to travel to his chin with the loud greeting. He sniffed it: Hamburger. Figures.

Walking in casually the two plopped down on his couch.

"So, Canada, what brings you here?"

"How many times must I say it, I'm Cana-" He cut himself off, staring oddly at Alfred "You…you remembered my name, America."

"Yeah, well," He stood, walking a ways off before mumbling "That's not all I've been remembering of you…"

"What was that?" Matthew asked innocently.

"Nothing."

They sat awkwardly, Matthew twiddling his thumbs and peering around the room. Alfred remained standing, and slowly found himself staring deeply into Canada's face. His large, shy blue eyes, that little twirl in his sandy blonde hair. He blinked suddenly, returning from the trance with Canada looking skeptical.

"Why were you staring at me?" He asked, wide eyed.

"Oh, I was staring?" Alfred babbled.

"Yes, you were. You seem out of sorts today, America, you are very quiet." Matthew looked concerned.

Alfred stared longingly into his brother's worried face. He was surprised to be inching closer, closer. Standing just over Matthew he whispered "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

Matthew blinked, seemingly surprised. "Gee, I don't know, America, no ones ever asked me before, and I just-"

"Just say yes, Canada."

"Yes."

Fat hamburgers laid neatly on the shining plates one hour later, fat dripping from the edges of the buns and crisp pieces of lettuce, tomato and cheese in-between. Next to them sat thick slices of apple pie, smothered with cinnamon butter and half-melted scoops of ice cream. Canada munched slowly at the meal, and America sat, strangely, without eating. Matthew was almost finished when he realized this and worriedly asked "Are you sick or something, America? Have you gotten plague? Been hit by another country recently?"

"What?" America stammered quickly, coming out of a trance "Oh, no I'm fine, uh, you want some more pop? Her! I'll get you some!" He quickly stood and scurried away to the kitchen. Matthew watched the doorway skeptically a moment, but finally just shook his head and continued with the meal.

Grabbing a soda from the fridge, Alfred gulped and set it down on the counter, breathing deeply and leaning up against the wall. He ran a hand through his hair and moved the other slowly down his stomach and over the area between his legs, hesitating. His anxiety suddenly turned to more excitement and he smiled, laughing lightly to himself. For years Alfred had kept his feelings secret, kept Canada from knowing. He pretended not to know who his brother was, just like everyone, and now, he finally had Matthew in the palm of his hands.

Well, not quite yet.

Alfred's heart thumped loudly in his chest and he walked across the room, opening the top drawer of a small cabinet, carefully removing a bottle with no label. He knew what was in it though: pure alcohol.

Walking over to Matthew's drink glass, he poured in the soda can and uncorked the clear vile. Holding it over the grass he suddenly thought is this right?

America did not care anymore though. All he knew was that he wanted, so terribly, terribly badly.

He tipped the vile, letting all of the liquid pour into the drink. Then, with a single light stir, he entered the dining room again.

"Here you go!" He said grinning widely.

Within a short half hour, Matthew was unconscious in Alfred's arms.

Several long hours passed and Matthew woke, his head spinning. His eyes just barely came into focus as he squinted, even in the semi-dark room. Where was he though? A simple bed was in the room and he lay atop it on mahogany colored sheets. Thick curtains covered the window to his left, and a dresser was the only other thing there, across from the bed. Rubbing his head, he moaned.

"Are you awake?" He heard an excited voice say from outside the room. Looking over to the door, Alfred entered, wearing nothing but loose boxers, his hair wet and plastered to his cheeks. He laughed at his brothers mortified face and there was a glint in his eye. He sat down at the foot of the bed.

"Feeling better?" He asked simply.

"No…no, what happened?"

"Nothing…yet," America laughed, in his usual fast voice "I didn't think I would drug you that much, but I at least wanted you to be somewhat awake…so that you would enjoy it."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Matthew closed his eyes, lifting his glasses from his face and massaging the bridge of his nose to ease his throbbing head. He was blind as a bat without his glasses. And before he had time to even notice, he felt a pulling on his jeans.

"What are you doing?" He whispered to Alfred.

There was no answer. Putting his glasses back on he was shocked to find Alfred sitting on his chest, his blue eyes staring deeply into his own.

Something about those blue eyes. Was it betrayal? Confusion? Or…simply love? Something began to attract him to his brother, something he had never felt before. Alfred kissed Matthew right then, and he enjoyed it.

Leaning back, America breathed excitedly "What do you think?"

Canada could only nod in need for more.

It happened all too quickly after that, but Matthew savored every moment. Alfred wrestled his boxers from his body, revealing his member, erect. Canada stared at it longingly, feeling his own tighten against the fabric of his briefs. Before he knew it, cold air rushed over him as America slid Canada's from his. Canada smiled but saw a sort of discouragement on his brothers face. Then he laughed.

With a smirk, something rare, Matthew said "Oh don't be jealous brother, an inch isn't that much."

America gave no return comment.

Then it began. Alfred cocked his head, moving it closer to Matthew's excitedly growing member, and licked it slowly up the shaft. A sort of chill ran down Canada's spine, no, down his cock and he swore he could've come right then and there. It was truly, fucking wonderful.

Hmm, there was a fun word. Fuck. Was it possible?

As though the young man's thoughts had been answered he felt a slow rubbing down there, and he gasped innocently, pulling his legs up. He swore he could've felt himself blush, felt like he was a young country again, when he had found his land. Alfred gave a light, high laugh and continued, opening him up until-WHAM! Alfred's member shoved it's way harshly up Matt. Canada screamed, halfway between a moan and an eep. America laughed.

"What's the matter, Matthew?" He said, burying his member as he thrust into him "Too strong for you?"

"You could've warned me," Canada panted pathetically.

America suddenly rested, laying down on top of his brother's stomach, both of their members still throbbing. He whispered "Do you love me, Matt?"

"yes," Canada panted pleadingly.

"I said do you love me!" America screamed, thrusting once, twice, on and on, faster and faster.

"yes, yes Al, yes!" Canada screamed back, rocking underneath him. Then he came. An eruption, a dying, a birth. He exploded, sending the cum splattering across his chest. Alfred moaned, finally pulling out from Matthew and letting his go across the bed. The two lay, nothing but the sound of heavy breathing, their naked bodies drenched in sweat. Matthew rolled his head over the pillow, staring up at Alfred. His brother rose and ran his tongue along Canada's sticky stomach. Canada just smiled. Then, without returning their clothes, America pulled the mahogany blanket tightly over himself, wrapping his warm arms around his brother, whose name he had not forgotten, and the two slept. Who cared if there was a World Meeting tomorrow, they would just have to be late.


End file.
